Five Ways Gibbs and Abby Met
by Jo. R
Summary: Pre-NCIS. Five possible ways Gibbs and Abby could have met.
1. Chapter 1

Title: 5 Ways… Gibbs and Abby Met  
Author: Jo. R (driftingatdusk)  
Rating: FR-7  
Pairing/Characters: Abby, Gibbs  
Category: Friendship, Pre-NCIS  
Spoilers: None  
Summary: 5 possible ways Gibbs and Abby met.

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He drove past the old, Gothic-style church every day both on his way to work and on his way home. Leroy Jethro Gibbs had never paid it much attention before, having left his faith behind him a long time ago following the senseless deaths of his first wife, Shannon, and their daughter, Kelly.

Why he found himself pulling into the parking lot and staring up at the imposing building one cold January evening, he didn't know.

He supposed it was due to the case he'd just closed, one with startling similarities to the incident that had changed his personal life forever. Either that or he was looking for an excuse not to return home where his soon-to-be third ex-wife would be packing her belongings (and most of his) in preparation for their upcoming divorce.

Shutting his car door with a little more force than necessary, Gibbs strode towards the double doors of the church, wondering idly if he was about to be struck down by lightening for even daring to cross the sacred threshold.

He even paused, two steps inside, as if waiting for it to happen.

When it didn't, he continued on, his normally quiet footsteps echoing in the large building. He looked around with narrowed blue eyes, instinctively searching each and every corner, checking the exits, looking for some kind of danger that didn't exist within the church's four walls.

It was almost empty but, glancing at his watch, Gibbs noted that it shouldn't come as much of a surprise given the lateness of the hour. If anything should, it would be the fact that the doors were still open to the public and that he wasn't alone in his visit.

Other than the Nuns speaking softly to the Priest at the back of the church, all of whom looked up at him with welcoming nods and smiles, the church had one other occupant, a woman who stood as he watched and walked towards the candles he himself felt drawn to.

He slowed his pace, not wanting to disturb the raven-haired woman, but she seemed in no rush so he ended up standing beside her, reaching for one of the splints of wood he could use to light two candles in memory of Shannon and Kelly and one for his mother.

He watched out of the corner of his eye as she lit a candle of her own, her pale hand trembling slightly.

Curious, Gibbs turned his head to glance at her, surprised at what he saw. The black clothes she wore, an old fashioned Victorian-Gothic black dress with matching dark shawl, had originally made him think that she was in mourning but he found himself wondering if there was more to it than that when he took in the rest of her appearance. She wore dark make-up around her eyes, her lips were painted in a rich, dark red in comparison to the paleness of her cheeks and he could see the beginnings of a tattoo on the side of her neck, the majority of which was covered by her loose, black hair.

She turned her head and caught his eye, striking green meeting cool blue, and her lips parted as if to speak – probably to ask why he was staring, Gibbs thought with a flush of embarrassment – but a voice from behind them interrupted before she could.

"Are you still here, Abigail?" It was one of the Nun's who spoke, addressing the young Goth with a familiarity and a fondness that for some reason surprised him. "Don't you have a home to go to?"

It was asked in jest but there was a note in the Nun's voice, and a glimmer of something on the young woman face that made him wonder.

"I've got a home but I don't know how much longer I'll have it if I don't find a job soon. And it's Abby, Sister Rosita. I don't answer to Abigail anymore." Abigail – Abby – turned away from the candles to face the Nun.

Gibbs lit his first candle, one for his mother, and tried not to listen to their conversation.

"I thought you were being headhunted?" The Nun sounded both surprised and sympathetic. "Why would they bring you all the way here if not to offer you the job?"

"Guess they didn't think I looked the part," Abby said somewhat sadly. "I don't suppose I look like most people's idea of a forensic specialist."

His ears pricked up; she certainly didn't look like his idea of a forensic scientist. He thought of the old man rapidly approaching retirement who worked on the cases at NCIS and compared the cynical man with a clear attitude of 'I'm leaving in a few months and don't want to be here' attitude with the young woman a few feet away who seemed so disheartened at not having a job and found himself wondering if she was any good at what she did despite her appearances.

Maybe, if she'd been headhunted…

The Nun and Abby walked off, their conversation growing too quiet for him to hear, and he lit two more candles, one each for the woman and child he'd lost and still mourned for, too preoccupied by his thoughts of them to notice when Abby slipped out of the church.

Before he left, he spotted the Nun – Sister Rosita – the woman had been speaking to and found himself walking towards her on impulse.

"Excuse me, Sister?" Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a business card as she turned to face him, a polite smile on her face. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with the woman who was here…?"

"Abby?" Sister Rosita looked at him curiously. "Yes?"

"If you see her again, will you pass on my card? There's a position coming up with my agency I think she might be interested in." Gibbs handed her the card and watched as her eyes scanned the details quickly.

Sister Rosita looked up, a wide, warm smile on her face. "I'll pass it onto her when I get see her, Mr… Agent Gibbs."

He returned her smile with a small nod, putting his hands in his pockets awkwardly. "Thanks."

Her soft goodbye and knowing eyes followed him out into the night.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you very much for the reviews so far!_

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The plastic chair was uncomfortable and the air conditioning in the small room was turned up far too high for her liking. Abby Sciuto wrapped her arms around her middle and stifled a shiver, staring blankly ahead at what she knew was a one-sided mirror.

She wondered, briefly, if there was someone watching her from the other side but was quickly distracted by the mottled skin beginning to bruise on her pale right cheek.

Getting involved in a fight had not been on the agenda when she'd planned her night out. Yes, her intentions had been good – she'd been trying to stop it, not knowing that one of the guys fighting had a wicked right hook while the other had a knife hidden on his person. She'd been planning on getting drunk, wasting what was left of her monthly paycheque on a good time to try and distract herself from the boredom her job instilled in her.

She worked for a pharmaceuticals company in the city of DC. It'd sounded like a great job when she'd applied for it – not her dream job by a long shot, since that would involve working with actual forensics – but she'd been forced to realise after three months that it wasn't what it had seemed on paper.

Abby wondered if any job ever was.

She was a poorly paid lackey, someone for the other scientists in the lab to order around. Her most exciting assignment to date had been getting coffee for her so-called team when there'd been an argument at the local coffee shop between two of the shop's employees, who'd love affair had ended pretty badly at the busiest time of day.

It was a fight she'd managed, fortunately, to stay clear of and Abby found herself wishing she'd done the same thing a few hours earlier.

Actually being in NCIS wasn't the problem; she'd been dying – not literally – to look inside the infamous headquarters on the Navy Yard since she'd moved to Washington DC. Even before that, when she'd first began researching the agency after encountering it in a paper she'd written on cold cases that had been solved years after they'd been opened for her degree.

She'd never imagined she'd have such a first-hand view of their interrogation room, though.

She stifled another shiver and glanced at the door of the interrogation room. She wondered if they'd forgotten about her or if they were toying with her. They couldn't possibly believe she had anything to do with one of the guys – the one who'd hit her – getting stabbed by the other. There'd been dozens of witnesses she was sure would back up her story so why they'd actually dragged her in for questioning Abby wasn't sure.

Not entirely, anyway.

She looked down at her clothes with a critical eye and sighed heavily. It wouldn't be the first time she'd been judged based on the way she dressed and she knew in her heart that it wouldn't be the last, either.

When the door opened, she looked up expectantly, fully prepared to give the balding NCIS Agent who'd brought her in a piece of her mind for keeping her waiting for so long.

Her mouth closed when a tall, grey-haired man stepped in his place.

"Ms. Sciuto? Special Agent Gibbs." He had a file in one hand and what looked like an ice pack in the other. Abby arched an eyebrow in question when he held the latter out to her, staring at it and him warily as though expecting it to be a trick. "It'll help the bruising."

Still watching him suspiciously, wondering where the other agent was, Abby took the icepack and pressed it gingerly against her throbbing cheek. "Thank you. I think."

He gave her a quick grin, so quick she almost doubted it'd been there in the first place. He took the seat opposite her and crossed his hands over the file, watching her intently for several moments until Abby found she had to look away. "I won't keep you long." The sound of his voice after a few seconds of silence startled her into looking back at him. "I just want to go over the statement you gave to Agent Wright."

"Fine by me." She took the icepack from her face and held in her hands, fidgeting with it even as she shivered in the cold room. "What do you want to know?"

"Can I get you something? Some water?" Agent Gibbs stared at her again. "You really should keep that on your cheek."

"It's cold," she pointed out unnecessarily. "I think you need your air conditioning fixed."

"I'll get it turned down for you." Agent Gibbs turned in his chair and made a cutting motion in the glass behind him. Abby watched as the gesture was reflected back at her and found that the blast of cold air circling around her ceased almost immediately. "So, what time did you get to the Lux Lounge?"

"Around nine, nine-thirty. We had a few drinks at my friend's place before heading out." As the temperate in the room slowly warmed, Abby lifted the icepack back to her cheek. "You can get bored if you go too early, and if you leave it too late, you might have to stand at the door for ages."

Agent Gibbs' expression suggested he didn't follow her logic but wasn't about to question her on it. "How did you get talking to Lieutenant Kerr?" He read her confusion on her face, lips twitching slightly. "Matthew Kerr."

"He said his name was Matt," Abby said with a shrug. She let her gaze stray past him momentarily, glancing at the reflection of the back of his head before dragging her eyes back to his face. "He stopped me on the way to the bar. Asked about my tattoos. We got talking and he offered to buy me a drink."

"You'd never met him before?"

"Nope." She shrugged again. "It was just a drink. Or would've been, if the other guy hadn't bumped into him."

"Captain Bradley?"

"If that's what he's called. There wasn't really time for introductions." Her smile was small and self-depreciating. "It wasn't a major deal or anything but Matt got angry. I don't know if they knew each other outside of the club but they started bad mouthing each other then started shoving each other… I was in the middle so I tried to get them to stop – self-preservation more than anything if I'm honest. I don't think Matt meant to hit me. I just got in the way. He got a couple of blows in and then the other guy – your Captain Bradley – brought out this hunting knife his jacket."

"What happened then?" Agent Gibbs still watched her intently, the folder in front of him still closed beneath his hands.

"Matt tried using me as a shield against the knife so I bit him and he let me go." She was almost proud of the fact, and made no effort at hiding it from him. "I'd just got from between the two of them when the cops arrived. The rest you probably know."

She sat back in her chair when she was finished, fidgeting with the icepack over her cheek. The silence stretched out between them for several, long moments, long enough that the ice began to melt against her warm skin. She made a face and pulled it away, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand and rolling her eyes at the black streaks of mascara that came away with it.

He flipped open the file in front of him, barely glancing down at it before breaking the silence. "You're a forensic scientist."

"I am."

"You work for Preston Pharmaceuticals?" Agent Gibbs watched her nod. "You like it?"

"Does anyone ever like their jobs, Agent Gibbs?" At his look, Abby shrugged once again. "It's a job. It pays the bills."

"You did your Masters degree in criminology and forensic science. Graduated second in your class." Agent Gibbs held her surprised gaze evenly. "Why not find a job in the field you studied in?"

"I tried. No one would hire me." Abby crossed her arms over her chest with a dejected sigh. "I think the fact I look more like one of their suspects than one of their employees put a lot of people off."

Agent Gibbs closed the file and let his hands rest over it again. "You manage to keep up to date with the current research?"

"Of course. It's what I want to do." Her smile was sad but the determination in it was clear to see. "Maybe someday someone will give me a chance to prove myself."

"Someday might come sooner than you think," Agent Gibbs told her cryptically. He got to his feet and motioned for her to do the same thing. "Thank you for your time, Ms. Sciuto."

Abby took the hand he held out to her, unsurprised at the firmness of his handshake. She dropped her hand back to her side when he let go. "The icepack..?"

"Just leave it. Someone will get rid of it later." Agent Gibbs opened the door gestured for her to precede him out of the door. Another man was standing there, his eyes meeting Gibbs over her head quickly. "Abigail Sciuto, meet Director Tom Morrow. Director."

"It's a pleasure," Director Morrow smiled at her and held out his hand. Dumbly, Abby took it as Agent Gibbs moved past her. "I have a matter I'd like to discuss with you, Ms. Sciuto. If you can spare a few more minutes of your time…?"

"Ah, sure. Not a problem." Abby glanced at Gibbs as he headed away from them down the brightly painted hallway. As if sensing her gaze, he looked back over his shoulder and threw her what she thought might've been a reassuring grin. "Am I in some kind of trouble…?"

"Not at all." Director Morrow chuckled warmly and led her along the corridor with a hand at the small of her back. "Quite the opposite, in fact…"


	3. Chapter 3

_Sorry for the delay between parts; the real world caught up with me again. Thanks for the reviews and adds :) _

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The building looked far more intimidating in person than it had done in the photograph she'd seen on the internet. Abby Sciuto stared up at it for several long moments, a hand pressed to her stomach as she tried to decide if it was nerves or excitement causing the sudden rush of nausea she felt.

Wondering if she could control it or if she should find a bathroom she could use.

"You're being stupid," she told herself firmly, oblivious to the looks and wide berth some of the men and women passing her by gave her. "It's not like you're showing up unexpected."

And it wasn't. She had an appointment, arranged through her former professor, to speak to an Agent L.J. Gibbs for a paper she was writing, one she had high hopes of getting published.

NCIS was one of the four organisations she'd researched before settling on one for the paper. She'd had meetings with a representative from the CIA and FBI, as well as a Metro cop, none of which had gone very well.

The FBI had had obvious issues with the way she dressed – though Abby herself thought the plain black skirt and skull & crossbones print blouse she'd worn along with a black collar with small silver spikes was quite conservative in comparison to some of her other outfits. The CIA rep… had obviously not wanted to be there. He'd evaded answering all of her questions, sitting across from her in a café in his dark suit and sunglasses even though it'd been pouring with rain outside, trying to distance himself in case anyone thought they were together.

His reaction had been the complete opposite of the Metro cop she'd been put in touch with, who'd shown far too much interest in what she wore under her clothes than any of the questions she'd been asking him.

She squared her shoulders and told herself there was no way her meeting with an Agent Gibbs could be as bad as that one. At least she'd been invited to the Navy Yard and NCIS Headquarters to have it, which gave her a small reason to hope it'd be more successful than the others she'd had.

There'd been a pass waiting for her at the gates of the Yard and she fidgeted with it anxiously as she followed a steady stream of people into the building, joining the end of the queue waiting to pass through the security checkpoints.

It took a good five minutes to remove her jewellery and collar before stepping through the scanner and Abby found herself holding her breath, waiting for the shrill beep that meant she'd missed something. Her eyes opened in surprise when it didn't come, her smile to the security guard holding out a tray full of her belongings bright and cheerful.

After reapplying her bracelets, earrings, collar and studded boots, Abby made her way to the elevators, following the instructions in the email she'd been sent. She bounced on the soles of her feet at the back of the elevator, taller than most of the agents who crowded into the metal box after her.

She didn't miss their curious – and some suspicious – glances but was adept at ignoring them; she'd had plenty of practise.

She followed them as they all spilled out on the same level, her eyes scanning the room for anyone who might look like the agent she was there to meet.

"Can I help you?" A man approached her as she stopped between four desks, slipping out from behind one of them. He didn't look like an agent, Abby decided in an instant, his top button undone, no tie in sight. His shirt was rumpled, too, as if he'd spent the night sleeping in his chair.

"I'm looking for Special Agent Gibbs," she told him. "I've got an appointment…"

"The forensic chick," the man said in response, his cheeks flooding when he released he'd said it aloud. "He's down in the lab. C'mon, I'll show you." He started walking away, toward a second bank of elevators she hadn't noticed before, giving her little choice but to follow. "I'm Stan," he introduced himself with a glance over his shoulder to check she was following. "Stan Burley. One of Gibbs' team."

Abby said nothing but smiled at him politely, stepping into the elevator beside him.

"You don't look like a forensic scientist," Stan offered as the mental doors closed behind them.

"You don't look like an agent," Abby returned smartly. He grinned at her, no offence obviously taken, and the duo lapsed into silence for the remainder of the short journey downwards.

A muttered curse followed by an amused voice greeted them when they reached the lower level. There was a dull thump and another curse before Stan grinned and led the way towards the open doorway of the lab.

"I really don't think hitting it will get it to work, Jethro," a British voice said mildly.

"No, but it'll make me feel better," came the gruff response.

Abby followed Stan into the lab, her eyebrows shooting upwards at the sight of the tall man in a dark grey suit standing with his hand raised as if he was about the hit what looked to her like a very old mass spectrometer. Another man stood beside him, arms crossed with an indulgent expression on his face, blue eyes twinkling with exasperated amusement.

"If you break it, it won't work at all," she found herself saying, crossing the room quickly, positioning herself between the battered piece of equipment and the apparent machine-hater. She ran her hand over the lid almost soothingly before her fingers dipped around to the back, pushing in the connecting wires of the power lead. The machine beeped instantly and whirled to life, a low pitched sound almost like a purr making her smile. "You'll have your results in about an hour."

"An hour?" The silver-haired man glared at her as if that was her fault.

"You can't rush science," Abby retorted primly. "You either want it done now or you want it done right. Which is it?"

There was a momentary pause. She met the man's glare evenly, aware of the audience they had in the older British gentleman and Agent Burley.

A grin broke out across Stan's face and he took a step forward. "Boss, this is the forensic chick Director Morrow said you had to meet with." He threw Abby a faintly apologetic look. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

"That would be because you didn't ask." At her words, the man in the grey suit lifted his hand and delivered a slap to the back of Stan's head. The agent didn't seem to mind but rubbed the back of his head with a roll of his eyes. "Abby Sciuto. I assume you're Agent Gibbs?"

Agent Gibbs took her outstretched hand, his eyes narrowing as he studied her. "You know how to work this stuff?"

"By 'stuff', you mean the overworked and out of date equipment in the lab?" Abby wondered briefly if he realised he still had hold of her hand. "Yes, I do."

"Good." Agent Gibbs gave her a short nod and dropped her hand. "You can put your things in the office at the back. And make a list of what you need updating or whatever."

"Excuse me?"

"You're looking for a job, right? Director Morrow said you were in between jobs at the moment." Agent Gibbs strode past her, glancing back over his shoulder when he reached the doorway. "You'll get your interview, Ms. Sciuto, when I get my results."

Abby watched him go, her jaw dropping. Stan merely grinned at her and waved before following his boss out of the door while the other man – the medical examiner she would later learn was called 'Ducky' on account of his first name being Donald and his last name being Mallard – lingered, patting her shoulder almost companionably before following the others.

"Welcome to NCIS, my dear."


	4. Chapter 4

Visiting the Metro labs was never one of the highlights of his day and Leroy Jethro Gibbs was sure today was no exception. His hands were already clenched into fists, his teeth grinding together as his junior agent, Stan Burley, struggled to keep a smirk off his face as they were shown the way from the front desk to the lab at the back of the building.

Having a guide was unnecessary; they'd both been there a dozen or more times already, but it was one of the Metro cop's ways of putting them in their place, of reminding them they weren't on their home turf. It was petty and annoying but something both Gibbs and Stan were used to through their dealings with the local LEOs as a result of a case they'd worked on some years before – a case NCIS had closed after finding evidence pointing to one of Metro's own as the guilty party.

The two organisations worked together but reluctantly, each preferring it if they could get through a case without their paths crossing. Unfortunately for all parties, the current cases they were working on had once again overlapped – the drug dealer Metro had been following for months had murdered a sailor whose death NCIS were looking into.

While going to the lab itself wasn't an unusual experience, the loud music that greeted them when they did was. Marten, the Metro cop leading the way, muttered something under his breath that Gibbs couldn't hear, the expression on his face suggesting that it wasn't anything pleasant.

Wondering who it was directed at, Gibbs found himself feeling strangely curious to meet Metro's new forensic scientist. He'd heard rumours, knew that the new guy wasn't making things easy for the cops who often liked to leap first and look later, not to mention his insistence that all of the equipment in the lab be updated and brought up to scratch. It was something the NCIS Director had chuckled about, before speculating aloud what they'd make of the equipment NCIS had at their disposal.

The music was abruptly shut off by Marten, who stood with a hand on his hip and a glare on his face as the forensic scientist appeared seemingly from thin air.

She – and she was undeniably a woman – glared back at Marten, both of her hands on her hips as she stared at her colleague with obvious contempt. "My lab, Marten. My rules. Or do we have to go see your boss again?"

Marten scowled at her while Stan attempted to smother a chuckle with a cough. Gibbs, for his part, found himself suppressing a smile as he studied her, taking in the visible tattoos and the studded collar she wore.

She didn't look like his idea of a forensic scientist but as she started rattling off details of what she'd found, guiding them around the lab to look at this bit of evidence and that print out of results, he couldn't help but be impressed by her. She knew what she was talking about even if he couldn't follow it all and he found himself feeling irritated on her behalf at the looks Marten kept shooting her.

It was obvious the Metro cop didn't think much of her, though he clearly didn't have any qualms about enjoying the view as she tried to explain what she'd found.

When she was finished, Marten took the copy of results that she handed him and turned on his heel after giving her one look, striding out of the lab without so much as a look in Gibbs and Stan's direction. With a sigh, her shoulders slumping, the forensic scientist who Gibbs noted they hadn't been introduced to moved over to the computer making a strange hissing noise in the corner.

"If you give me a minute or two, I'll print you out your own copy since Marten doesn't seem inclined to share," the forensic scientist apologised as she sat down gingerly on the chair behind the desk. A look of frustration passed over her features as she accessed the computer, her smooth brow marred by a deep line as she glared at the screen.

For a few moments, the room was silent but for the strange sounding computer. Even Gibbs could tell there was something wrong with the machine she was trying to use and he wasn't a computer expert – or even a user – by any means.

He glanced at Stan to find his agent watching the forensic scientist in obvious interest. Gibbs stared at him intently until Stan sensed it and looked at him, ducking his head quickly at the glare on his boss's face. When Gibbs jerked his head, motioning for Stan to leave, the younger agent gave a mournful sigh but did as he was instructed.

The forensic scientist looked up at the movement, an apologetic look on her face. "If there's somewhere else you guys have to be I could email or fax…?"

"I can wait." Gibbs walked towards her desk, holding her gaze. "I missed your name before."

"You mean Marten didn't think it was worth saying," she corrected with a sigh. Standing as the printer across the room finally began to work, she held out a hand. "Abby Sciuto, Forensic Specialist. You're NCIS?"

He gave her a nod and took her hand. "Gibbs. You like working here, Abby?" The expression on her face answered for her and he found himself unable to completely quash the grin that curved the corners of his mouth. "You interested in going somewhere else?"

"I've tried everywhere else," Abby admitted with another deep sigh. "Metro's the only place that would have me."

Gibbs followed her over to the printer, taking the print outs she handed him without looking at them. "You ever try NCIS?"

"I was told there were no vacancies when I called," Abby said slowly. She lifted an eyebrow in question. "Is there a position coming up?"

"Our current forensic specialist retires at the end of the month." Gibbs looked at her speculatively and reached into his pocket for a business card. "Send me a copy of your resume. I'll see the Director gets it."

Her green eyes widened and her mouth gaped a little before she composed herself. "Are you for real?"

Gibbs shrugged and pushed the card into her hand. "You'll never know unless you try. Thanks for the report."

He turned before she could say anything, feeling her gaze on his back as he strode out of the lab, confident he'd hear from her soon.

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_Only one more way/part of this to go! Thanks to all of you who are reading this :)_


	5. Chapter 5

_Last part to this! Hope you've all enjoyed it, and thanks for all the lovely comments etc :)_

* * *

NCIS Agent Stan Burley shuffled on the spot in front of his desk, uncharacteristic nerves showing on his face. Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs arched an eyebrow, blue eyes growing decidedly cooler when he noticed the lack of paper in his agent's hands.

"My results?"

"The, ah, the new forensic girl said they're not ready yet." Stan grimaced at the look on his boss's face and let his shoulders rise and fall in a helpless shrug. "She said she'd call me when they were."

Gibbs said nothing. Stan looked away.

With a sigh, Gibbs got to his feet and strode determinedly towards the elevators at the back of the squad room. He'd heard whispers about the newest forensic specialist the Director had hired but hadn't met her yet; he wasn't sure he really wanted to. There were some agents who said she was brilliant, others who said she was a little... out there, he recalled as being the most polite term.

He bit back another sigh and jabbed the button summoning the elevator with a little more force than necessary. He tapped his foot impatiently waiting for it to arrive and glared at the agents who exited the elevator as he tried to enter it. He turned to face the closing steel doors, glaring at his own reflection, frustration with the pace of his current investigation overruling the curiosity he might have ordinarily allowed himself to feel.

For that reason, his mouth was set in a grim line, a frown on his face as he strode off the elevator and towards the lab doors. He flinched at the sound of the music blaring out of it, his bad mood souring further at the unwelcome noise.

Quickly locating the source of the sound on entering the lab, he slammed his hand down on the CD player, the sting in his hand fading as the relief of silence set it.

"If it's broken, you're buying me a new one." The stranger's voice was deeper than he was expecting with a hint of an accent he couldn't place at first. He looked up and icy blue eyes met molten green as the black haired woman glared at him from the doorway of the small office area between the main room of the lab and ballistics. "Special Agent Gibbs, I presume. The Director did warn me about you."

He clenched his jaw and arched an eyebrow. "The results in the Hendricks case."

"Aren't ready and won't be for another hour, just as I told Agent Burley not more than five minutes ago." Her expression didn't falter even when he gave her a glare that made most agents, lawyers and ex-wives quail in their shoes. Gibbs silently gave her points for that, and for the way she held his gaze without flinching. "You can't rush science, Agent Gibbs. Or me. Try it and I can guarantee we won't get along."

"I didn't get along with the last forensic tech, either," Gibbs admitted, baring his teeth in a smile that wasn't friendly. "He didn't last very long."

"Then he didn't deserve to be here." She quirked an eyebrow when she noticed his gaze drop to the tattoo on the side of her neck, catching the slight surprise on his face before he was able to cover it. "I can assure you I'm more than qualified, Agent Gibbs, and I've worked damn hard to get me where I am. No one is going to scare me away, not even you."

"It wasn't my intention," he found himself lying smoothly, the last of his anger fading under the weight of amusement he tried to fight when she merely stared at him, eyebrow arched, hands on her hips. "I need those results, Ms...?"

"Sciuto," she supplied automatically. "But it's Abby, for most people."

Deciding not to let himself wonder if he was included in that, he instead took the direct approach. "A murderer will be allowed to walk out of here unless I have those results soon."

"A murderer will be allowed to walk free from a courtroom unless you give me time to be thorough enough to guarantee a conviction," Abby returned just as directly. "Which would you prefer, Agent Gibbs? Having to keep tabs on this guy for half an hour or so and then make the arrest or make the arrest now and have his lawyers tear the evidence to shreds?"

They stared at one another in silence for several moments, neither prepared to give. After a while, she broke eye contact with a frustrated sigh, her hands forming uncomplimentary words he was sure he wasn't supposed to understand.

"You'll get the results when I get the results," Abby called over her shoulder, stalking into the office she'd left when she'd come to see who'd turned off her music. "If you have a problem with that, go see the Director!"

A machine beeped before he could reply; Gibbs told himself that it was a good thing. He watched as she stalked back out of the office and towards the offending equipment. He caught the glance she shot him over her shoulder and tracked her movements as she strode across the room to the printer that had begun to whirl in the corner.

"What do you know, a 98.6 percent match." Abby turned from the printer with a grudging look on her face, holding it out to him. "I guess you can make your arrest now, Agent Gibbs."

He crossed the room towards her and took the paper, glancing at it briefly before folding it and putting it in his pocket. Catching her gaze again, Gibbs moved his hands slowly, enjoying the startled expression that arranged her features as she caught on to what he was doing.

'Good job, Abby.' A rare grin arranged his lips as he turned and strode towards the exit. "Oh, and most people just call me a bastard. Though you get points for being creative."

Gibbs glanced back over his shoulder as he stepped towards the elevator, biting back at chuckle at the still stunned look on her face.

He didn't know how long she'd last but he was sure it'd be an interesting experience for them both.

* * *

_End._


End file.
